Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels
by The Batchild
Summary: Dean has come back from hell and no one knows how he got out. The only answer is too bizarre for even the hunters to think about: an angel. When they finally confront said angel, they discover something even more bizarre: Amelia seems to know who he is.
1. Chapter One: Best News Ever

I don't own **Supernatural.** Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

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><p><strong>Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.<br>**Chapter One: Best News Ever.

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><p>What do you do when the person you may or may not love is taken to Hell long before their time?<p>

How do you stay sane? How do you stay whole? How do you keep from destroying yourself to join them in the fire?

For Asher, the answer was simple: become completely self-absorbed and forget about everything else unless forced to think about someone or something other than yourself.

When she and Amelia weren't hunting or traveling, Asher's attentions were turned completely inward and focused on her relationship to the wolf inside, to the animal part of her. She hardly went out anymore unless she was running as a wolf, and she did all her research from her laptop in the motel room, leaving Amelia to do all the leg work involved on a case. She drank a lot and ate almost non-stop, but she claimed it was just for the wolf. She didn't talk about what she was feeling and she wouldn't even bring up Dean in conversation. Amelia would have been more worried about her sister, but she was glad Asher was spending more time with her wolf; the last thing Amelia wanted was for Asher to turn all self-destructive, and with Dean Winchester in Hell, that was what she had expected. Building a relationship with the animal inside would make Asher stronger and make it easier to be short one Winchester.

Not that they really had the other.

After Dean had been taken to Hell, the girls had spoken to Sam once or twice, helped on one more hunt, but after that, the younger Winchester had kind of disappeared. He didn't return their calls, he didn't return Bobby's calls, and the one time the girls had seen him, he had ignored them. Amelia, who had been having a casual relationship with him, had taken it hard, but she had more resilience in that department than her sister and she had redirected her feelings. The concern Amelia felt for Sam was the same she held for Asher. She was afraid that without Dean, Sam would destroy himself, that he _was _destroying himself trying to find a way to bring Dean back or to join him. Sam hadn't talked to Bobby either since right after the night they had tried to take down Lilith. Amelia and the older hunter had spent many days trying to track Sam, to find him and help him, but they had come up with nothing, leaving the girls and Bobby short two Winchester brothers, but closer than they had been before.

Asher and Amelia had spent as much time at Bobby's since Dean had gone to Hell as they had out hunting. Bobby's house and garage had become sort of a de-facto base of operations, and since he had become more comfortable with Asher's werewolfitus, he welcomed the company. Bobby had known Austin and he frequently told Asher that she had inherited many of his quirks as he told them stories of their late adoptive father. He taught Asher some things about cars and shared his books and knowledge about the supernatural with Amelia whenever they stayed for more than a night, and the girls looked forward to going to Bobby's.

Currently however, the girls were not at Bobby's, although they were following up on a series of strange mutilations he had read about earlier that week. As had been the procedure of late, he had informed Asher and Amelia and they had set off in search of whatever supernatural baddie was plaguing the area. Asher and Amelia were, at the moment, posing as FBI agents Erickson and Martin and were in a suburban area of Chicago, trying to get information out of the local police and not having much luck. Amelia was doing all the talking, as per usual, and Asher was hanging back, observing the crime scene. When Asher had first started spending more time with her wolf, Amelia had been a little anxious about letting her near the carnage and blood, but when Asher had displayed control enough to use her heightened senses to pick up evidence and showed little to no interest in the blood, she had laid off.

"You said no one saw anything?" Amelia asked the slightly overweight police officer. They were standing inside the front door, which was propped open to ward of the smell of the bodies. The police office was leaning against the door frame and Amelia was doing her very best to look authoritative which was rather difficult at her height.

He shook his head and scratched at the side of his head. "It's the same as all the other mutilation cases, ma'am. You can see the coroner's reports at the medical examiner's office if you want."

"Thank you, I think we'll head over there next." Amelia handed the police officer a card. "Call me if you think of anything else. Unless there are any witnesses?"

Asher, farther inside the house, was only vaguely listening to Amelia's conversation. She was squatting in the kitchen and what remained of the bodies in front of her looked like it had been torn apart by more than one being. There was blood everywhere and a few conspicuous voids in the spatter that suggested there had been people in the kitchen when the murders had taken place and there were probably a few very bloody creatures out there. There were visible teeth and claw marks in the carnage and the hearts were missing—things that once, would have been sure signs of a werewolf. But the smell Asher was getting wasn't wolf. It smelled like… cat. Big cat. Lion, to be exact. Asher remembered the smell from when she and Amelia had decided to go to the zoo once, years ago. She had never encountered a werelion before, but who was she to say they didn't exist?

Her cell buzzed in her pocket and she reached for it without thinking, her eyes still on the victims. "Hey Bobby," she said, looking at the display as she flipped the device open. "Do you have any more information on the mutilations in the other cities?"

_"Ash?"_

She nearly dropped the phone. She did fall back onto her ass, the air driven from her lungs in surprise. Her thoughts were racing and her heart was beating faster as she tried to piece the situation together, as she tried to make it make sense. "Dean?" she gasped. She couldn't believe it—wouldn't. It wasn't possible. He was in Hell. Dean Winchester was dead. There was no way he was calling. "Put Bobby on the phone," she demanded, hoping the gruff older man was still alive to be put on the phone.

There were some noises like the phone shifting hands, and then Bobby's gruff voice appeared. He answered the unasked question immediately. _"Asher, I've run all the tests. He's Dean, one hundred percent human."_

"What? But how… how is this possible?" Her voice was still breathy and her vision was starting to swim before her eyes. She forced herself to take a deep breath and to exhale slowly. "How did this happen?" she asked, trying to sound objective even though she knew Bobby wouldn't be fooled. Asher was many things in relation to Dean, but objective was not one of them.

_"We don't know yet. Dean and I are here with Sam trying to figure that out—Room 207 at the Astoria Hotel in Pontiac, Illinois."_

"We'll be there in a few hours."

_"What about those mutilations?" _

Asher rolled her eyes; all she wanted to do was get in the truck and drive to Pontiac, to see Dean. "Mutilations look like standard werewolf attacks, except I don't smell wolf, I smell lion. If you're going to ask me to track and hunt this werelion or whatever—don't. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I'll be able to concentrate. I'll likely get myself killed. I'm coming to Pontiac."

Bobby sighed heavily. _"Fine." _He hung up.

Asher flipped her phone closed and returned it to her pocket, getting to her feet and walking towards the door as fast the stupid high heels she had to wear in her FBI costume would allow her to. She gave Amelia a significant look as she passed, and since the interview was over, Amelia followed her out onto the front lawn, expecting news about the case. If she had had the heightened senses that Asher did, she would have smelled the fear and the panic on Asher and would have known it wasn't about the case. Or would have guessed so anyways.

"What is it?" Amelia asked.

"Dean."

Amelia looked back at the house, her blonde braid flinging over her shoulder; her hair had grown quite long in the past few months. "What? Dean did that?"

"No, you idiot," Asher snapped. "Dean's back from Hell. He just called and Bobby confirmed it. He's back."

"What?" Amelia blinked several times, her gray eyes wide. She ran the fingers back through her bangs. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know; they don't know, but we are going to Pontiac, _now._"

"What about the case?"

Asher turned on Amelia, fire in her blue eyes. As her gaze narrowed, her eyes lightened until they were that pale, almost white colour that meant the wolf was close to the surface. Amelia knew it was a dangerous look, but she didn't back down. "You can stay here and work on the case, but I'm going to Pontiac, right fucking now. I don't care about these people," she hissed as she stepped closer and jabbed a finger into Amelia's chest. "I care about _Dean._"

Amelia closed her eyes and sighed heavily, rubbing her hands over her face. "Just let me call another hunter to take over. I'm not leaving these people stranded."

Asher growled low in her throat. "Fine."

"Do you have any information I can give whoever I can get a hold of?"

"Looks like a werewolf attack; smells like Lion," she snapped. "Can you call them in the truck? _Please_?"

It may have been the please or the desperation in her sister's voice, but Amelia nodded and followed Asher back to where they had parked her large black pickup. Asher climbed behind the wheel and Amelia in the passenger's seat and immediately began calling all the hunters on her contact list, looking for someone who was willing to take over the case for them. Asher heard her drop their names, Austin's name, Bobby's name, and finally the Winchesters' names and finally find someone who was nearby and was willing to come and take a look. Who it was, Asher couldn't have told anyone, but she didn't really care either.

Back at the motel, Asher hurriedly changed out of her suit and heels and into a pair of light blue skinny jeans, a loose, blood red tank top and her favourite high heeled black boots; as long as the heel was attached to a shoe that covered more than her heel and toes, she was fine with heels. She added her thigh holster and slid her favourite sawed off into place and then began packing her things and doing so in no careful order. Amelia made some comment about her dressing up for Dean, but Asher didn't respond, mostly because it was true. Dean didn't care about the scars on her arms; he liked them and Asher liked that she didn't have to hide them, that she could show them off. Sam and Bobby had seen all her scars too and they didn't care either. With her hunter friends—no, they were really more like family now—Asher felt comfortable and didn't have to worry about weird looks or people being afraid of her. So she dressed up and packed her things with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Amelia made Asher let her drive once the truck was packed and they had checked out of the motel. Asher was nearly vibrating she was so excited and Amelia wouldn't let her run to Pontiac, so she settled for sitting in the passenger seat, with her laptop out and on and she wrote. It was something she hadn't done in a while; she had been too focused on hunting, on her wolf and on not missing Dean. She used her excess energy and turned her experience dealing with her wolf into the beginning of a novel, something she hopped she could sell. She had had several short stories based on their hunts published, but nothing bigger. Asher did know someone who was a publisher and hopped he would help her out.

By the time they reached Pontiac and found the motel two hours later, Asher had run down the battery of her laptop and was itching to jump out of the truck cab and find Dean. Her skin was alive with the need to have him hold her; still she wouldn't admit she loved him. Amelia found a parking spot outside the motel and as soon as the vehicle had come to a stop, Asher was out the door and walking across the parking lot as fast as she could without running. Her world had narrowed down to the stair case and the gold numbers on the black doors. It was periphery information that told her the motel was darkly coloured and the halls were dimly lit. It was faint smells that told her there were three different types of cigarettes being smoked and that two people were smoking pot; that someone had a hot plate in their room and someone had a microwave. There was a drunk yelling in one room, and nearly the entire building smelled like sex, but all Asher cared about was that door at the end of the hall that said 207, the door that was standing between her and Dean.

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

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><p>So this is the book that has the most outside anticipation. Several people were waiting for this one, and one in particular because after the reunion, it focuses more on Amelia than Asher. The book I'm most excited to write comes after two one-shots, and it's about the future episode. That one should be fun to write and hopefully to read.<p>

This book also has the introduction of Castiel to Monster Hospital. He might prove a little difficult to write, since at the beginning he's like… emotionless. He'll be harder to write than Spock. Yikes.

Anyways, please enjoy the beginning of book four!

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: Reunions and Answers. <strong>


	2. Chapter Two: Reunions and Answers

I don't own **Supernatural.** Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

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><p><strong>Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.<br>**Chapter Two: Reunions and Answers.

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><p>Amelia pushed ahead of Asher as they made their way down the dim hall to room 207. She knew her sister wouldn't stop at the flimsy barrier. She wouldn't knock; she'd just barge in and who knew what they were going to find? She wasn't going to let Asher become traumatized by what was potentially behind that door. She was hanging by a thread all ready, regardless of how strong her wolf was making her, and anything to do with Dean—anything to do with Dean that was bad—would be the last straw, would snap that thread and Asher would fall into the abyss. Dean behind the door might not be the Dean they'd seen before he went to Hell and if that was the case, Asher would not be a happy werewolf. As it was, Asher was growling at Amelia for shoving her, but she let Amelia knock on the door.<p>

They heard movement and muffled voices; Asher continued to growl and she was nearly vibrating with the anticipation, but she remained on her side of the door. After a second, Sam Winchester opened the door. He was more muscular and tan than he had been and he looked taller, but he had the same puppy-dog eyes he always had. There was something more confident about the way he held himself, but Asher didn't take the time to notice. She didn't even smile or nod or acknowledge his presence at all. The werewolf pushed passed Sam and stepped into the room, her blue eyes locking immediately onto Dean, standing in front of the couch on the opposite side of the musty-smelling room.

She remained still for the briefest of seconds and then a bright smile took over her face and she nearly launched herself towards the hunter, arms wrapping around him as tightly as she could managed without hurting him; emotions made Asher lose control of her inhuman abilities, but she held back enough to refrain from squishing the older Winchester. He looked like Dean, smelled like Dean, felt like Dean. The energy that radiated from everything living was the same as Dean's had always been. It was Dean, Dean Winchester, the hunter who had tried to hunt her, thought seriously about killing her and had somehow wormed his way under her skin and into her life. The hunter who she'd fought with more than anyone, who she would continued to fight with and who she was beyond ecstatic to see. Something inside her clicked as she pressed he face into his chest and she felt better, more sane than she'd felt since he had been taken to Hell. She sighed and tucked her head under Dean's chin.

He returned the embrace, smiling against her hair and rubbing her back. "I didn't realize I was missed so much," he said.

Amelia gave a bit of a laugh from across the room. "Oh Dean, you have _no _idea."

As the others laughed, Asher looked up at Dean, a dark look in her eyes that suggested sex and something more; in her head, all she could think about doing was kissing his soft, soft lips and running her hands over his chest. He returned the look, but instead of acting on those desires, they untangled themselves from each other and settled on the couch, Asher curled up beside Dean like if she left, he'd disappear, like being next to him was all that mattered. There would be time enough for the fun stuff after they got the important issues out of the way.

"How did you get out of Hell?" Amelia asked. She had settled herself beside Sam, their knees touching. The two younger siblings had had a bit of thing going before Dean had gone to hell. Asher had forgotten, but it had been months since they had seen each other as well.

Dean shrugged, but it was Sam who answered. "We don't know."

"Do you have _any _theories?"

Bobby gave a rough sigh. "We have one, but it doesn't seem too likely."

"Well what is it?" Amelia asked. She was evidently taking point. Asher was too wrapped up in Dean being there to do anything of any use.

"It could have been demons that dragged Dean from the ground," Bobby answered. He sounded almost hopeful, like he was waiting for Asher and/or Amelia to come up with some supporting theory or evidence. When they didn't, he sighed again. "Well, we don't have much to go on." He gestured with his thumb at Dean, who had an arm around Asher's shoulders. "Loverboy over there doesn't remember anything and he's just got a weird ass handprint on his shoulder where whatever pulled him out, pulled him out."

Amelia got to her feet and walked over to the couch. She stood in front of Dean. "Can I see it?"

Dean nodded and got to his feet. He pulled off his t-shirt in one, smooth motion, revealing a shiny pinkish handprint on his shoulder. Amelia squinted at it and reached out like she would touch it. At the last minute, she pulled her hand away and rubbed it against her jeans like she was trying to get something off of it. She shook her head and then turned to her sister.

"Ash, we should get a room… I'm not feeling so well all of a sudden."

"You'll get no argument from me."

Amelia nodded, a sarcastic grin on her face. "Great. I'll go get us checked in and then I'm going to take a nap. You two just do… whatever."

Taking the hint in Amelia's voice, Bobby and Sam got to their feet as well. "We'll hit the library and do some research; see if we can't find some other ideas," the younger Winchester said. "We'll let you two get… reacquainted." With a smirk in the general direction of Asher and Dean, Sam grabbed his bag and then headed for the door, Bobby following suit. Amelia gave them another grin and then she too, was out the door.

Asher only got to her feet then, her hand sliding across his skin to where the smooth handprint was. She put her hand over it, mimicking the position of the fingers exactly. The hand was a little bigger than hers. Dean looked down at her hand and, in a move that was almost more than human fast, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him. He kissed her and she returned the kiss, a desperate moan escaping her mouth; a moan that turned into a growl as she raked her nails gently down his chest, leaving white scratch marks behind. As her nails pressed harder into his stomach, Dean wrapped his hands around her wrists.

"Be gentle Ash," he whispered harshly. "I just got out of the pit."

She growled a bit at being stopped, but then a breath of laughter escaped her lips and she put her forehead against his chest. "I'm sorry Dean. I've been spending more time with my wolf and sometimes, it gets hard to draw a line between me and her." Dean's hands slipped under the red tank top and traced along her scars, like he'd memorize each of them. She closed her eyes and shivered. "Oh God, I missed you Dean."

His hands slid farther up her back. He didn't bother to say that he'd missed her too. That was obvious. He just kissed her again and said, "Just don't poke any holes in me."

"I'll try."

When they kissed again, it was like they were feeding from each other, eating from the mouth down. Asher ran her hands over Dean's chest and stomach and back, doing her best not to drag her nails along his skin and Dean traced the scars along her back and front, pulling off her shirt when it got in the way, leaving her in her jeans and another one of the black cotton bras she was so fond of. She slipped her hands into the front pockets of his jeans and pulled him down on top of her as she lowered herself onto the couch. Dean wedged his knees between Asher's, forcing her to open her legs. She wrapped them around his waist and dropped her hands to the front of his jeans, undoing the button at the top and then slowly unzipping his fly.

That was when Amelia burst into the room, eyes wide and hair in disarray, dressed in an overly large t-shirt and shorts, like she had been sleeping. Dean leapt off the couch and off Asher and turned his back to Amelia has he zipped himself back up. Asher just stood up and glared at Amelia.

"What the fuck Amelia?" she snarled. Her eyes swirled down to pale blue. She was pissed.

Amelia didn't seem to notice her sister's anger. There was something different about her; something in the way she held herself and the way her face was set. There was nothing there. No emotion, no nothing. She just started walking towards Dean, her right hand stretched out in front of her like she could grab something from the air. Amelia moved gracefully, almost like she would start floating or something; it was not the way Amelia normally moved. There was something seriously wrong with her sister and Asher had no idea what it was.

"Amelia?" she called.

Dean turned around then and he blinked as Amelia approached. "What's up?"

"I don't know Dean. She's not responding; she doesn't even look like herself." Asher narrowed her eyes at her sister and opened her other senses. Her nostrils flared, but there was no smell. Or, nothing familiar. She took a deeper breath and caught a whiff of something… clean. "She doesn't smell like Amelia, but she doesn't smell like a demon. Something's in there that isn't my sister." Asher growled low in her throat, but Dean had heard the fear in her voice. This was something Asher couldn't fight, not without hurting Amelia. She was coiled in an attacking position, but Dean knew she would never move on that attack. So she stood there and growled.

Amelia was drawing closer to Dean and the older Winchester was backed into the wall with nowhere to go. He wasn't exactly sure why, but he didn't want Amelia to touch him, not when she was like this, not when she wasn't herself. Asher had moved to stand behind her sister, like she was waiting to catch her, but all the tension had shifted to between Dean and Amelia. Her hand reached out and her mouth parted slightly as her fingertips brushed the soft tissue of the handprint on Dean's shoulder. A small noise of longing escaped Amelia's lips and she moved so she could put her hand over the mark as Asher had done moments before.

Dean began to scream and a blinding white light stretched across the room, radiating from the contact between Amelia and Dean.

"Dean!" Asher screamed. "DEAN!"

"It burns—holy Jesus!" Dean might have continued, but his words dissolved into another scream.

Asher did the only thing she could think of—she tackled Amelia away from Dean, the girls tumbling away until they collided with the wall, Amelia pinned under Asher. When the cobwebs had cleared from Asher's head, she looked down at her younger sister and found her cheeks wet with tears and her grey eyes wide with an emotion that looked a lot like grief. She didn't look hurt; Asher had no idea where the sadness was coming from. The werewolf grabbed Amelia around the arms and hauled her into a sitting position with her back against the wall.

"Amelia?" she breathed. "Are you okay?"

But Amelia didn't seem to hear. Her eyes were looking at something far away and the tears were still silently streaming down her cheeks.

"Amelia?"

If Asher hadn't been so close to his sister's face, she wouldn't have heard what she said next. "Castiel…" Amelia breathed. "Castiel, I can feel you again…"

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

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><p>So, I'm re-watching <strong>Supernatural. <strong>This, in the process of writing this epic piece of fanfiction, is a good and bad thing. It's good because it means I get to clarify details, get reunited with the characters, etc., etc. It's bad because it makes me want to write more with Asher and Amelia and the boys and get them further ingrained in the universe and in their relationships with the characters. So… I've decided to go with the bad option and write more one-shots and stuff. Maybe. If I do write them, they'll be posted after I'm done the currently planned things and I'll clarify when they come into the timeline of **Monster Hospital. **

I don't have anything else exciting to add to the author's note, so… enjoy!

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: Angel's Don't Exist. <strong>


	3. Chapter Three: Angels Don't Exist

I don't own **Supernatural.** Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

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><p><strong>Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.<br>**Chapter Three: Angels Don't Exist.

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><p>"What the fuck just happened?" Dean asked. He was staring down at Asher and Amelia from behind the werewolf, his hazel eyes wide and his mouth gaping just slightly. "And who or what the fuck is Castiel?"<p>

"I have no idea!" Asher's voice was panicky; she was shaking Amelia now, trying to get her to respond. "Call Bobby and Sam! Get them back here!" She shook Amelia a little harder, but her sister's head just lolled to one side and her mouth kept forming the name Castiel over and over again, her finger flexing like she was grabbing for something. "Amelia! Amelia, snap out of it! AMELIA!" She wasn't getting a response. Asher growled and shook Amelia harder, almost too hard. She stopped herself just short of breaking Amelia's neck and still, the younger girl just stared ahead and mumbled that name, crystalline tears rolling down her cheeks and the ghost of a smile dancing across her lips. Asher pulled her hand back and slapped Amelia across the face. Nothing happened. She slapped her again. Still nothing.

The third slap seemed to work. Amelia shook her head and rubbed her cheek, her gray eyes refocusing on Asher. There were still tears pouring down her cheeks. "Ash? What… what happened? Why am I in here? I was asleep…"

Asher felt the tears on her cheeks, but she didn't do anything about them. Slowly, she shook her head and then dropped to her butt beside Amelia, gasping slightly for breath. "You came in here a few minutes ago. You looked like a zombie or something; you weren't in your head. You touched the handprint on Dean's shoulder and he screamed and there was this light and then I tackled you off Dean." Asher sniffed and finally wiped the tears off her cheeks. "You were talking about someone named Castiel; how you could feel him again. You sounded so happy to be able to feel this Castiel again."

Amelia blinked. Her hand fell on her chest, over her heart and her fingers flexed, like she was trying to grab her heart through her ribcage. "Castiel," she breathed. Her voice had become breathy with wonder and more tears appeared in her eyes. She was smiling, a brilliant smile. "Castiel."

"Amelia, who is Castiel?" Asher asked.

"He's an angel," she answered without hesitation. "An angel." Her grey eyes found Dean as she pushed herself to her feet. "Dean, it was an angel that pulled you out of Hell. Castiel. He saved you." Laughter bubbled up between her lips and she brought both hands to her chest, over her heart. Asher thought she might start dancing but, thankfully, that was not the case. Amelia just continued to beam.

Amelia's revelation and happiness were met with silence, wide eyes and gaping mouths; Asher was still sitting on her butt on the floor and Dean was standing in front of Amelia, but the looks on their faces were identical. After a brief second, Dean joined Asher on the floor and they both stared up at Amelia, who still had the bright smile on her face. She looked happy and at peace. She looked like a piece of herself had been restored. There was something vaguely disturbing about het state of contentment. At least to Asher.

"How do you know it was an angel? Why did it burn when you touched Dean? What the fuck is going on?"

Amelia turned that smiling face to her sister. "I… I don't know, Ash. But trust me. This Castiel… He's an angel of the Lord."

Sam and Bobby chose that moment to return from the library or wherever they had been doing their research, which gave Asher the chance she needed. She got to her feet and marched from the room, leaving the boys to question Amelia. The werewolf thought about going to the room Amelia had booked for them, but thought better; that was too easy. Amelia would find her there and Asher didn't want to talk to Amelia, not yet. Instead, she walked to the end of the hall, to the staircase and went up, hoping that the door to the roof was open. It was. Breathing a sigh of relief, Asher pushed the heavy metal door open and stepped into the mild fall air. She smelled Dean before she heard him, but Asher didn't make any move towards him. Instead, she just padded across the roof in her bare feet and leaned on the barrier, looking out at the city lights and the faint stars above.

Dean mirrored the position beside her, standing close enough that they were touching from their shoulders to their hips. "What's up with the freak out, Ash? I mean, I know Amelia's sudden knowledge of angels can't be easy to take, but—"

"It's not sudden, Dean."

"What?"

Asher turned and looked at Dean with her eyes halfway between human and wolf. She was upset. And angry. Asher huffed and rubbed one of her hands over her face. "This knowledge isn't sudden."

"It looked pretty sudden to me," Dean snorted.

Asher huffed a second time, the noise ending as a growl. "For a couple weeks now, Amelia has been… not herself. We'd be walking somewhere and she'd just stop and turn her head to the side like she was listening to something, or it'd be the middle of the night and she'd wake up screaming and wouldn't remember why. In the middle of conversations, she'd stop and mumble something about angels or soldiers of God or some other religious crap and then just go on with what she had been saying before, like nothing had happened." Asher let Dean see the full weight of her emotions; he was the only person she ever let see her grief and pain and anger to their full extent.

Dean frowned. "Has she ever mentioned this Castiel before?"

"No. This is the first I've heard of him."

For a moment Dean was silent. "Do you think he's really an angel?" His voice was serious, but he was as sceptical about the whole angel thing as Asher was. "Like fluffy wings, halo, the whole nine yards?"

"I don't know what to believe, but if he _is _an angel I doubt it's the Hallmark card version."

Again, silence. "Do you believe in angels?"

"I've never really thought about it, if I'm being honest. I've believed there was something bigger than us out there, but I never thought it might actually be the capital G God and all his minions." She gave Dean a small smile, but it was more sarcastic than anything, afraid. "It stands to reason though, that if there are demons, there should be angels, don't you think? Good to balance out the evil?"

"I guess."

Asher leaned her head on Dean's shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Dean, I don't know what to do. Amelia's my sister, my family and all of a sudden, she's not acting like I've ever seen her before. It's like she's not the same person I've known my whole life anymore." Asher sniffed back a sudden wave of emotion and nuzzled into Dean's side. He held her tighter. "I want to know what's up with Amelia."

"So do I. And I want to know why this Castiel pulled me out of Hell and if he really is an angel."

The werewolf nodded and then it was her turn to be silent for a while. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and timid and the words came slowly. "Dean… what was Hell like?"

Dean's arm tightened around Asher, almost to the point of hurting but Asher didn't say anything about it and she didn't push the topic. She didn't want to aggravate him. "I don't remember," he said eventually. "I get flashes of colours and heat, but nothing concrete, nothing I can actually see." He looked down at her, but his hazel eyes were distant, like he wasn't really looking at her.

"I guess that's a good thing. You probably don't want to remember anything from Hell."

"Probably not."

Asher had a feeling Dean was keeping something from her, but she didn't press. She had no right to press. If he wanted to tell her, he would and then she would deal with the information, whatever it was. Instead, Asher just leaned into Dean and forced her thoughts back to Amelia and the issues surrounding her. They had a lot to figure out and they had to find a way to figure it out. Maybe Bobby would know someone who could help them; maybe he had a rare book sequestered away that would have some bit of information that would tell them it wasn't actually angels, it was something that could pose as an angel and convince people they meant good. Part of Asher hoped it was something like that, but part of her didn't. Part of her hoped it was angels because they were supposed to be good, right? Maybe there wasn't a case here or anything bad going on.

She sighed heavily and Dean leaned down to kiss the side of her head. After another moment, she turned and walked back to the door, Dean following close behind. Halfway down the flight of stairs, Dean grabbed Asher's arm and pushed her up against the wall. He moved to stand in front of her and stared at her for a moment, that heat that was all male entering his eyes. Asher smirked and let him kiss her. She kissed him back but cut the moment short.

"We need to focus on figuring out what's going on," she breathed. Asher sounded frustrated and her hands were still wandering over Dean's stomach. "With you and with Amelia."

Dean kissed her again and then walked passed her down the stairs, his hand grasping hers as he went and pulling her after him. Asher followed, squeezing Dean's hand.

Back in the room, they found Sam and Bobby sitting on the couch with Amelia seated cross-legged on the floor in front of them. She had moved the coffee table out of the way and was leaning back on her hands as the three of them were debating about the possibility of angels and God and tried to figure out how Amelia was related to those angels and why they had pulled Dean out of Hell. When Asher and Dean had walked in, Amelia was just watched the two boys speak to each other with raised voices. Amelia was still smiling. Asher settled herself on one of the beds and Dean dropped down beside her. The current path of the conversation was about Amelia's connection to the angels.

"Do we have any ideas of how she could be connected?" Asher asked. "Any idea at all?"

"I've got a couple," Bobby said. "But I'll need to do some more research to figure out which are worth following up on. There's a lot of lore about angels and not all of it is reliable. Or easy to decipher."

"Not surprising," Dean said. "Have you come across any reason why they might want me out of the Pit?"

Bobby and Sam shook their heads at the same time. "Nothing."

"It sounds like we have to find some way to contact this Castiel," Dean groaned. He didn't sound very happy about that idea and none of the other hunters in the room looked too enthused about it either. "Do we know any rituals?"

"Dean," Sam interjected. "We don't even know what he is."

"He's an angel."

"Okay Amelia," Dean said, voice filling with all the anger and impatience he was feeling. "Do you have a ritual to summon this angel? Do you have any idea how to contact him?" Dean tried to get off the bed, but Asher grabbed his wrist and held him down, using her supernatural strength to restrain him. Dean glared at her for a moment, but then stopped struggling and grunted. "You can keep saying he's an angel and that he's a soldier of God or whatever the fuck you're calling him, but it's not helpful! It's not getting us anywhere!" Dean's voice had almost reached a yell.

Amelia got to her feet and walked across the room, that smile still on her face. "Dean," she said leaning down in front of him. "Castiel is an angel. He cannot be called like some dog." She giggled and backed away. "He will come when he wants to see you."

This time it was Asher who got to her feet, letting go of Dean's wrist as she did so. She moved to stand in front of Amelia, her lips pulled back in a snarl and her eyes swirling to light blue. Too late, the others realized what was going to happen. Asher lunged forward and tackled Amelia to the ground, her hands scrambling for Amelia's throat. By the time her fingers had encircled Amelia's neck, Dean had his arms around her middle and Sam was trying to pry her arms away from her sister. Bobby was screaming something, but Asher wasn't hearing anything.

"You're not my sister, you're not my Amelia," she growled. "GIVE ME BACK MY SISTER!"

Only because of her rage, her lack of control, where the boys able to wrestle Asher away from Amelia. She fought and kicked and screamed the whole way. She reached for Amelia, her fingers tense like claws. Only because she wasn't really trying to kill her were they able to pull Asher back to the beds where she curled into a ball against Dean.

"Get her out of here," Bobby ordered.

Dean obliged and carried the distraught werewolf into the room Amelia had rented for them. Sam went to Amelia's side and helped her sit up.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Amelia?"

She rolled her gray eyes up to him and the smile returned to her lips. "I'm fine Sammy." Amelia placed a hand on Sam's chest, another giggle escaping her lips. "You got big Bambi," she said around another laugh. And then she passed out and went completely limp in Sam's arms.

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

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><p>So far, I'm really liking this book. The one I'm most looking forward to writing is the next one though is the one that takes place in the future. It's going to be fun times. Future!Asher is fun as is Sammy in his white devil suit. That is still one of the most hilarious things ever.<p>

Anyways, enjoy the chapter.

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: Bloody Past. <strong>


	4. Chapter Four: Bloody Past

I don't own **Supernatural.** Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

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><p><strong>Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.<br>**Chapter Four: Bloody Past.

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><p>"Exactly how long have you been expecting something like this to happen, Ash?"<p>

The werewolf was sitting on the floor between the beds with her back against one bed and her feet propped up against the other. Her arms were draped over her middle and there was a sour look on her face. She wouldn't look at Dean. In fact, her blue eyes seemed intent on the pattern in the comforter on the bed. For several minutes, she didn't say anything. Her hands just flexed on her stomach again and again and she chewed on her lower lip; Dean knew she was upset and barely containing herself because both those actions were signs. He sat on the carpet beside her but refrained from touching her because he knew she would be volatile and likely snap and yell or something and he didn't really want that. Not that he would ever admit it, but Dean was not fond of the times Asher lashed out at him or outright attacked him; his arm still burned sometimes from where she'd but him when they were fighting the werewolf pack.

"A while now," she finally said, her voice little more than a whisper. She closed her eyes and sighed. "I told you about the hints I've been picking up and sometimes… sometimes, she doesn't even smell like Amelia anymore." Asher's eyes darkened and wavered, tears threatening to bubble over. "I don't know what's going on and I don't know what to do and… it's scaring me."

Dean had never known Asher to admit that she was scared in any situation. He moved cautiously closer to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. She rolled onto her side so she could snuggle into him easier and let herself be vulnerable for the moment, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his stomach. It amazed Dean that she was only this honest with him. The moment passed quickly however and she sat up, wrapping her arms around her stomach and doubling over, like she was in pain. Dean just watched. When she didn't move or say anything however, he got up and left the room, knowing there was nothing he could do when she was like this, nothing she would want him to do. As he reached the door though, Asher told him Sam could bring Amelia in if he wanted to. She still didn't move from her spot on the floor. Dean left her there.

Sam did bring Amelia into the room a couple minutes afterward, his mouth turned down slightly. He only spared a glance at Asher as he placed her sister on the bed and then turned towards the door.

"You smell different," Asher said quietly. "Kind of like a demon smells."

The younger Winchester made some non-committal noise before he vanished back into the hall. The werewolf pushed the thought away and rose to her knees beside Amelia's bed so she could stare at the prone form of her sister.

Amelia looked peaceful; her eyes were closed and she was smiling. She didn't smell like Amelia and she didn't look like Amelia, not with that dumb look on her face. Amelia would have balked if she had seen the way this… not-Amelia had acted, the way she had become so blindly devoted to this Castiel, whoever he was, _whatever_ he was. And just from touching a hand print on Dean's shoulder. Asher propped her head up on one hand and narrowed her eyes at Amelia, searching her brain for anything that could be done to help her, to explain the situation.

There was nothing, except for the thought that maybe, just maybe, this episode had something to do with how Asher had found Amelia, all those years ago.

Asher, right after she had changed her name from Marie, had been eight or nine and it was just after Austin had adopted her. She had gone back to her house while her biological parents were away and gathered up the rest of her stuff and she was on her way back to Austin's, taking the shortcut through the forest. It was a path she had walked many times, so even though it was pitch black, she was not afraid. She was going to learn how to hunt ghosts and spirits and evil things, what was hiding in the dark. She wasn't afraid of the dark. She never had been.

But when she saw the pale shape walking ahead of her, Asher stopped. It wasn't just a shape. It was a human, a little girl. Her eyes were blank and she was covered in something dark… blood. Asher could smell it the closer the girl got. She ducked behind a tree and dropped her backpack so she could lower herself into a fighting stance, preparing for the eventuality that she would have to fight this girl—maybe she was possessed by demons. She could be dangerous. Austin had told Asher to always be prepared because anything, even the most unassuming thing, could be deadly. Asher reached into her boot and drew out the knife Austin had given her to keep there.

Asher bared her teeth and listened to the girl approach, her tiny feet crunching on the dry leaves covering the forest floor. The sound of sobs preceded the girl and Asher poked her head out from behind the tree, her grip on her knife's handle loosening. As soon as she realized that, she mentally smacked herself and tightened her fist; it was foolish of her to slip. The tears could be a trap to draw her in closer. Asher was sure there was a creature out there somewhere who used tactics like that. She bared her teeth.

But the girl never came.

After waiting a moment, listening to the forest around her, Asher stuck her head out around the tree trunk to peer into the darkness. For a moment, she didn't see the girl. As a cloud moved past the moon however, the pale shape of a girl curled in the leaves appeared, her shoulders shaking with sobs and her small hands shifting about in the dirt as she looked for some purchase to push herself back to her feet. Asher climbed out from behind the tree, her knife still in one hand, all but forgotten. Slowly, she approached the girl, waiting for her to jump up and attack or something. It took her a moment to get herself into motion, but eventually Asher knelt and extended her arm towards the girl, poking her shoulder with the hilt of her knife; she had not moved within arms' length of the girl. When all she did was continue to sob, Asher prodded her harder, a grunt of frustration escaping her lips.

"W-who are you?" the girl sobbed. She turned her small round face up to Asher. There was dirt mixed with the blood, but clear paths where the tears had fallen. "Where am I?"

"You're in a forest, genius," Asher snapped. "What are you doing out here?"

"I… I was looking for other people. Somewhere I know." The girl pushed herself into a half-sitting position and then reached out for Asher's help when the older girl got to her feet. Her hand made a small thud when it hit the ground under Asher's rejection. "I don't know anything," the girl said, fresh tears working down her cheeks. "Except that my name… my name is Amelia."

Asher gnashed her teeth together and rolled her eyes, her hands, one of which was still clutching the knife, on her hips. "Fine, my name is Asher." She bent over and hauled Amelia to her feet before returning her knife to her boot. "Stay here," she ordered. She went back and grabbed her bag from behind the tree and then returned to the girl, her face set in a deep scowl; that Amelia looked hopeful didn't help. Asher didn't really _want _to help, but she knew she would feel guilty about leaving the girl in the woods alone and besides, Austin would want to know about the strange amnesic girl in the woods.

"Wh-where are we going?" Amelia asked, rubbing her eyes with dirty hands.

Asher batted Amelia's hands away from her face. "Don't rub your eyes with your hands—you'll get dirt in them. Use your sleeve or something." Amelia did as she was bid and then looked expectantly up at her rescuer. Asher rolled her eyes again. "We're going to my… father's house. His name is Austin. He might be able to help you."

"Oh… okay."

Little had Asher known then, that Amelia would become her sister and Austin would adopt them both. Of course, it didn't happen that quickly. At first, Austin had seemed almost afraid of Amelia: he kept talking about signs that something big had come to Seattle, and about a place he had found where all the tree had been blown aside and the remains of a bunch of people and a campsite had been found with a set of little footprints wandering away. A few weeks after Asher had shown up with Amelia however, Austin seemed to brush off the feeling and welcome Amelia as readily as he had Asher and they had become what passed for a family of hunters, big dogs and all.

As Asher's thoughts turned to those dogs, she realized how much she missed them, and the days when their family had been whole. She put her forehead down on the bedspread and cried, part of her afraid that Amelia wouldn't make it back to normal, and even more afraid that the crash site Austin had been so concerned about had been connected to Amelia.

"Ash?"

Asher lifted her head and looked at Amelia. Her face had lost that contented, glowing look it had had a moment before and she smelled like herself again; Asher inhaled deeply just to be sure. She sighed with great relief. "Oh my God, Amelia," she nearly sobbed. "You're you again."

"… What?"

"Nevermind." Asher climbed on the bed and hugged Amelia. "You don't remember anything of the last couple hours?" she asked as she withdrew.

Amelia put a hand on the side of her head like she sometimes did when she had a headache. "I… I remember feeling strange, like I wasn't myself. I remember seeing you and Dean and touching Dean's shoulder, but after that… Wait, I remember a name."

"Let me guess—Castiel?"

Amelia nodded and Asher felt like she could slap herself on the forehead. She was really getting sick of this Castiel, angel though he may be, and she hadn't even met him yet. Nor was she really keen on doing so. "You haven't been yourself for the past few hours, Amelia. It was… frightening. You didn't even smell like yourself and none of us knew what to do. Bobby and Sam went to see if they could find anything on the internet or in the library and Dean's getting some rest. I'd like to do the same."

"Me too," Amelia admitted. "I'm not sure why, but I'm really tired."

So the girls changed and said goodnight and climbed into bed. As worked up as she was, Asher was surprised how deep and dreamless her sleep was. Amelia was not so lucky.

She dreamed of the night her and Asher had met, but her dream started with her, as a little girl, standing the middle of what had been a campsite, staring at the bloody remains of adults and a couple children. She seemed to be unscathed—covered in blood, but unharmed—but she wasn't sure how that had happened, not in the middle of all the carnage she could see. Where was she? Why was she there? She wasn't sure. All that she knew was her name was Amelia and she had to leave this place as fast as she could. Something was pushing her away from the campsite, telling her to head to her left, into the woods; somehow she knew she would be safe if only she could get there.

As she stepped over one of the bodies, he moved, a low groan escaping his mouth. Amelia stopped and stared down at the man. He had black eyes and there was nothing left of him below the waist, but somehow, he was still alive. The sight didn't bother Amelia. In fact, she dropped to her knees in the dirt and placed two fingers in the centre of the man's forehead. She didn't know why, but that felt like something she should do.

The man laughed, blood gurgling out his mouth and dripping down his chin. "Stupid girl," he gasped. "Your powers are gone. The next time we come for you, you won't be able to get away. The angels won't get their hands on you."

Amelia pressed her fingers harder into the man's forehead, screwing her features up in concentration, but still nothing happened. The man laughed and then opened his mouth and screamed, a torrent of black smoke pouring out and racing off; the man's last breath left his body on the tail of the strange cloud. Amelia pulled her knees to her chest and cried, smearing dirt and blood on the already dirty white sundress she was wearing.

When the tears stopped, Amelia pushed herself to her bare feet and once again headed for the forest, in search of whatever was going to be there to keep her safe, to help her.

Still, the only thing she knew was her name.

Amelia awoke from the dream covered in sweat and shaking. Was that a dream? Or had that been a memory? Before, if Amelia had thought about when her and Asher had met, all she could remember was meeting the rather mean girl in the forest, never anything before that, so it could have been a dream. But… it didn't feel like a dream. Like knowing the name Castiel and feeling… whole when she had felt his presence in that handprint, Amelia didn't know how she knew it, but that had not been a dream.

A sob escaped her mouth and she wasn't sure where that had come from either. When she reached up to touch her face, her cheeks were wet.

"Amelia?"

She looked over at the bleary-eyed Asher. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up. Bad… dream."

"I may be half asleep Amelia, but I can still tell when you're lying." The werewolf rolled onto her side and propped her head up on one hand and rubbed at her face with the other one. "What's wrong?"

"Well, I thought it was a dream, but… it felt more like a memory. Of before I met you."

"Oh?"

"Ash… I think I may be connected to the angels somehow."

Asher sat up suddenly again and almost fell off the bed. "Amelia, are you sure?"

"Well, it would explain me knowing the name Castiel, wouldn't it?"

Asher frowned at her sister and then nodded her head grudgingly, running one hand back through her tangled black hair. "I guess it would… we should wake the guys."

"Let's not bother them until morning…" Amelia said, her voice nervous. "Let's try and get some more sleep."

The rest of the night passed slowly and neither of the girls got anymore sleep.

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

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><p>Sorry it's been a while. I haven't abandoned it or anything, just a lot more stuff going on and I've been super tired lately because of all the damn heat where I live and the serious lack of rain. It keeps threatening to rain, but it doesn't. Just gets hotter.<p>

This is why I hate the summer.

Also the heat makes me sick if I'm out in it for too long. So I've been kinda grumpy and I can't really write when I'm grumpy. I just wanna lie around and do nothing.

Which is why it's taken me so long to update, but I have updated. And I will continue to update.

Anyways, enjoy this update.

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: Complications. <strong>


	5. Chapter Five: Complications

I don't own **Supernatural.** Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

* * *

><p><strong>Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.<br>**Chapter Five: Complications.

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><p>While Amelia was relaying her dream or memory or whatever it was to the Winchesters and Bobby, Asher went for a walk to get breakfast and to get away from the weirdness. Something about the whole situation and how tense it was making her wasn't agreeing with her wolf, and if she spontaneously transformed, Asher couldn't guarantee that no one would get hurt. So she left. She found a little café with a friendly, middle-aged waitress who was more than happy to bring Asher a stack of pancakes and a plate of bacon without any bizarre looks at the order or comments about it, which Asher was mighty grateful for. That was one thing she did not need right then…<p>

The werewolf sat in the corner booth in silence, looking out the window, eating her food and wondering if there was a way she could avoid going back to the hotel room for a while, because she really wasn't sure she could deal with Amelia in her angel tuning-fork stage or whatever the hell was going on. Not right then and not for very much longer.

When her breakfast plates were clean and she had drank what she assumed amounted to a full pot of coffee, Asher paid her bill and left the café, immediately starting back towards the hotel room but deciding halfway there that she could find something better to do. Or at least something that would occupy a decent amount of time. It started to drizzle as she walked, so she zipped her black leather bomber jacket up and shoved her hands deep into its pockets as she started off down the main street, looking for an interesting store to browse through or just a place to sit and observe the sleepy town around her. By the time she found a used bookstore that looked promising, her light wash jeans were soaked to the point of sticking uncomfortably and her hair was plastered to the sides of her face and neck. Standing on the rubber mat inside the door, she shook herself and then proceeded down the first aisle, enjoying the smells of the aged paper and the unexplainable feeling she got when she was around a lot of books.

A bored-looking teenage girl nodded at Asher from behind the counter and then stuck her nose back in the book she was reading. Asher gave her the same acknowledgement in return before automatically heading towards the section labelled "Mythology and Urban Legends." Some habits die hard.

The section was fairly small, but that was to be expected; Asher had yet to find a bookstore that housed a large section on the more bizarre parts of the world, even a large chain bookstore. People just didn't seem to want to believe in the supernatural anymore, unless it involved overly-attractive sparkly vampires or cranky werewolves and a lot of sexual tension. Asher picked a large, dusty volume from the bottom shelf and sat on a nearby chair, clouds of dust puffing out as she sat down, and propped the book open to the table of contents on her knees. She ran one finger down the list, looking for lore about… well, she had to admit to herself, angels.

Because as much as Amelia was freaking her out, Asher couldn't sit by and do nothing. Amelia was still her sister, even if it was only for a short while longer.

The book didn't yield much that she didn't already know, nor did the rest of the miniscule section, but nevertheless Asher purchased the big volume as well as a couple paperback novels that looked at least a little diverting and wrapped her books tightly in a plastic bag before once again striking out. This time she did head for the hotel; she had dawdled long enough, but that didn't stop her from grabbing a tray of coffees for the others before heading back upstairs to the dingy hotel room.

When she found almost made her wish that she had found another reason to dawdle.

Asher placed the coffees on the table, but she went totally unnoticed. Sam, Dean and Bobby were sitting on the couch against the far wall, looking at Amelia like she had sprouted a second head out of the middle of her forehead; Asher was afraid some bizarre transformation had actually taken place, but was pleased to find Amelia still looking like Amelia, however terrified a woman she currently was. Amelia was standing on the opposite side of the coffee table, hands balled into fists at her sides and her lower lip between her teeth.

"Well," Asher said, "did you guys reach any conclusions? Or did you just sit here staring into space the whole time?"

Her voice seemed to rouse everyone from their state of shock and four pairs of eyes turned to the werewolf like they were surprised to see her there. She wasn't bothered by that however. Asher just dropped onto one of the beds and waited for someone to respond.

"I've never heard anything like this before," Bobby said. "I once read something about vessels, but this doesn't sound like what I read."

Thinking the term vessels sounded familiar, Asher pulled out her recent purchase out of its plastic bag and once again spread it over her knees, ignoring the surge of interest as the others gathered around to peer at the aging pages. She flipped back to the section on angels, past the stories about the archangel warriors and the stuff about fluffy wings and halos to the brief paragraph where it mentioned something about angels walking among men, but needing their permission before using their skins. The term vessels was used only once, but it was there and it was indeed what Bobby had been talking about.

"This sounds rather disturbing for a creature that's supposed to be all holy and helpful," Dean observed.

"Wasn't it said somewhere that the angels are the warriors of God? What about that sounds holy and helpful?" Asher looked from the page to Amelia and back again. Bobby was right: the vessels didn't sound anything like what was going on with Amelia. No one had asked her permission to possess her body, there was no one but Amelia in that head. Even if she didn't always _smell _like Amelia, she was still herself. "You're right Bobby," Asher said. "I don't think she's a vessel."

Amelia sobbed then and the others looked to her. She was still standing in the middle of the room, but now her arms were wrapped around herself and there were tears on her cheeks; if possible, she looked even more scared. "So what are we going to do?" she asked.

"Well it's a step forward that we've ruled out something you're not," Sam suggested. "I know it's lame, but it's something." He crossed the room to Amelia and placed his big hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently until she relaxed and leaned into his chest. The taller Winchester directed Amelia to sit down on the couch and handed her one of the takeout coffees Asher had brought back and managed to get her to drink it and the warmth seemed to steady her nerves. "We'll figure this out, Amelia."

Asher moved her eyes from the scene back to the book on her lap and Bobby and Dean to either side of her. "Do you remember anything else you've read about vessels?" she asked Bobby.

"Just something about them being used in the Apocalypse."

Dean and Asher, who were the only ones close enough to hear both gaped and the former swore under his breath.

"The Apocalypse? Like _the _Apocalypse?" Asher breathed. "Hell and fire and brimstone and the death of mankind?"

"Hey," Bobby said defensively. "I'm just telling you what I've read. Don't mean it's true."

"Do we know anywhere we could find out the truth?" Dean asked.

The older man sighed and scratched his beard as he ran through what was no doubt an extensive mental list. "I do know a psychic who might be able to help us figure out what's going on with Amelia _and _who pulled you from the pit, Dean. I'll give her a call and see if she's willing. This is a bizarre case though, even for her. She might not want to risk it."

"Understandable."

Soon after, Bobby left to call said psychic and try and do more research. The mystery of Dean's rebirth and Amelia's strange behaviour just kept growing, getting deeper and more confusing and any information they could glean would be helpful, but aside from Bobby, no one seemed up for doing anymore reading. Sam stayed with Amelia on the couch and they just talked, just like they had before Dean had died and gone to hell and Dean and Asher settled themselves on the floor between the beds so Asher could be freaked out and angry without scaring Amelia further. If they stayed quiet, it was almost like the pairs of hunters were in separate rooms.

"She seems to have returned to normal," Dean said, trying to be comforting.

"For now, but who's to say how long it'll last?" Asher turned dark blue eyes to Dean and frowned. She had pulled a blanket over herself and was huddled as deep into it as she could get. The room wasn't especially cold, but she wasn't the only one feeling the chill. Sam had wrapped another blanket around Amelia and Dean had pulled his coat on over his t-shirt and was sitting as close to Asher he could manage without hampering either's movements. "Dean… This is wearing me out and…"

"Before you say it's making you think about the relationship you and Amelia have, don't. Regardless of what ever is going on, you and Amelia will always be sisters."

"I wish I could believe that."

For several long moments, Asher and Dean sat in silence and the only noise were the faint whispers coming from the other side of the room where Amelia and Sam were apparently deep in discussion about something. The werewolf looked at Dean, but couldn't hold his gaze for long and dropped her eyes to the bumps of her knees under the blanket. The urge to shift and to run suddenly overcame her and she wished she could; she wished she wouldn't feel guilty for leaving when everyone was so unsure of what was going on. So Asher huddled deeper in her blanket and stared at her knees and wished, for once, things would be easy. But it seemed whenever a hunter was involved, especially if his name was Winchester, things were never as easy as would have been fair.

"Are we really dealing with angels and devils and the Apocalypse here, Dean?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

He reached over and wrapped his hand around her ankle, gave it a bit of a squeeze. "I don't know Ash, I really don't, but it sort of seems that way." He gave her a weak smile. "I was hoping coming back from hell would be easy."

That got a small smile from Asher in return. "What about that could _possibly _be easy?"

* * *

><p>Theoretically, Castiel knew what was so important about these Winchester boys: they had major roles to play in the upcoming battle for Earth, provided they couldn't stop it by preventing Lilith from breaking sixty-six of the seals. But even then, they had a role to play. Yes, these boys were important and Castiel had been assigned to help them.<p>

But that hadn't—nothing could have—prepared him for seeing her again, for finding her.

She didn't look like she had, but angels who had fallen usually didn't.

Castiel looked down at Amelia, huddled on the couch with one of the Winchester boys and wished he could tell her what she was, why she was on Earth and what was causing her to have these weird reactions, especially to the handprint on Dean's shoulder; Castiel's own handprint. Amelia had been in his garrison. They had fought side by side for thousands upon thousands of years and then, only about twenty years ago, she had suddenly vanished and the story had spread that she had fallen, cut her own grace out and dropped to the mortal plane. Castiel hadn't believed it at first, but Amelia had been created by Gabriel and he was… well, different.

Turned out Amelia had been different as well, but not as different as Castiel had first thought.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

* * *

><p>Asher's book-feelings are the same ones I get. I can't explain it, but whenever I'm in a library or bookstore, I get all warm and fuzzy inside and never want to leave. I once spent three hours in a Chapters (it's the Barnes &amp; Noble or Borders of Canada. Our biggest bookstore chain) just sitting there, watching people browse and casually flipping through the book I had picked off the shelf. And if it's raining outside and I go to a bookstore, forget it. Libraries and bookstores are two of my favourite places and, as I love the smell of books, two of my favourite smelling places as well.<p>

Anyways, about the fic. Sorry it's taking me so long to update between chapters. Without Supernatural on TV, my inspiration tends to wander to other places. Like Mass Effect. Or Batman. But I've got every intention of finishing this fic-monster, so don't worry. You may just have to be a little bit patient with me and my mind that can't decide what it wants to write next.

Enjoy.

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: Psychic. <strong>


	6. Chapter Six: Psychic

I don't own **Supernatural.** Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

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><p><strong>Monster Hospital<strong>**, Book Four: Angels.  
><strong>Chapter Six: Psychic.

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><p>The revelation that angels might be involved and that they were sitting on the edge of the Apocalypse had left everyone in a sort of shock. Bobby had set up an appointment to meet his psychic friend in the morning and with that to look forward to, the mood had somewhat elevated, but everyone was still a little stunned. Sam managed to get Amelia into bed and watched her until she fell asleep before he fell asleep himself, curled on the bed beside her, one arm draped protectively across her stomach. Asher and Dean fell asleep occupying the beds in the Winchester's room, but no one managed much more than a few hours of fitful rest.<p>

Asher woke up at about three in the morning, when the room was still dark and everyone was still quiet. She walked over to the window and leaned against it, the cool glass flattening her cheek and temple and the condensation making her shiver. The whole situation had the werewolf reeling, and it wasn't as if she wasn't used to bizarre situations. She hunted monsters for a living. But angles… that was a whole other pile of problems. No one had every documented an angel sighting, meeting or killing before and no lore existed beyond what was in the Bible or old tomes. Asher didn't like it. The only way she was managing to keep from going insane—or all wolf—on someone, was by clinging to the hope that Bobby's psychic would be able to tell them who had pulled Dean from Hell and what the fuck was up with Amelia.

Around four, she stopped her brooding and made something to eat from the meagre stores in Dean and Sam's room and the smell of peanut butter and coffee woke Dean from his fitful slumber; or, that's what it seemed like. "Good morning," Asher mumbled sarcastically as she spread peanut butter on bread.

Dean made some non-committal noise.

"Yeah, that's what I thought an hour ago. You ready for Ms. Psychic?"

The older Winchester brother poured himself a cup of disgusting coffee from the pot Asher had brewed and seemingly inhaled it before pouring another one. "I guess. How does one prepare for a psychic?"

Asher shrugged. "Open your mind? Broaden your horizons?"

"I guess." Dean gave a small smile around the coffee mug in response and then finished his second cup. "I take it the other two aren't up yet?"

"I don't know. I haven't left this room and I'm not overly eager to see Amelia if I'm being honest."

Dean held her blue-eyed gaze for a moment before shaking his head. "I'm going to shower before Sam and Amelia are up and Bobby gets back and we have to leave." He placed the cup on the counter and turned towards the bathroom, bare feet rubbing slightly on the carpet; Asher let her gaze drift over the contours of Dean's bare back appreciatively. As if he felt her gaze, he turned and smirked. "You care to join me?"

Asher was more than pleased to take Dean up on the very distracting offer.

Forty-five minutes later Asher and Dean were cleaned, dressed and much more relaxed than before. They were sitting on the floor of the room, gun parts spread out on the carpet around them and eagerly cleaning their guns when Amelia and Sam entered the room, the latter looking sleepy and the former looking as lost as she had since the whole mess had started. Asher immediately averted her eyes as she got to her feet and set about arming herself with the minimum amount that she'd be taking to the psychic's. Dean and Sam dropped into a quiet conversation about the plan for the day. Amelia approached her sister slowly, cautiously.

"Ash?"

"What?" she snapped.

"Do you think we'll find any answers today?"

The black-haired woman turned and looked down at Amelia. The woman looked smaller than normal, hunched in on herself, arms wrapped around her body and there were dark circles under her eyes. Asher didn't think she'd slept at all. "I don't know," she finally said, her lips contorting into a slight frown. "I hope so. I really do…" As Asher held Amelia's gaze, she saw some of her sister leak through the distant eyes. It made her hopeful.

"I'm sorry," Amelia breathed. "I know you're freaked out."

Asher's frown deepened and she turned back to the task of getting ready, afraid to get into any deep conversations with her sister. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right for Asher to abandon Amelia when she was in trouble, but it wasn't life threatening, right? It wasn't as if Amelia was going to die because of this, right? Asher sighed as she slid her hunting knife into the top of her boot and started packing up her bag.

* * *

><p>The psychic, whose name was Pamela apparently, lived in a modest house in a suburb that wasn't too shabby and wasn't too upscale. There were a few kids playing outside, but it was a quiet place and Asher felt a little like they were intruding as they climbed the wooden steps with their peeling paint, their boots making the wood groan and creak loudly. Bobby knocked on the door and they waited. Asher cast her dark blue eyes around, feeling like she was being watched but seeing no one. Before she turned back to the door, her gaze fell on Amelia, who was looking as dejected as she had before.<p>

She did nothing.

When the door opened, a short woman with black hair and a wide smile stood there, effectively keeping them all from entering her house. Pamela—for who else could it be?—greeted Bobby and then turned her face to the other four taking up all the space immediately outside her door.

"And who might you all be?" she asked.

Bobby took over the introductions, since she was his friend; briefly, Asher wondered what sort of relationship the two had had as they seemed very, very close. "The boys are Sam and Dean Winchester. You've no doubt heard of them."

"You two are very popular on the other side of the veil," Pamela said, her smile only growing.

"Yeah, what else is new?"

Bobby shot Dean a look, his moustache twitching as he frowned, before he gestured towards the girls. "And this is Asher Michaels and Amelia Shaw. They're Austin Smith's girls."

Pamela's dark eyes scanned Asher and all the joy left her face. Asher knew that Pamela could tell what she was, but she wasn't afraid of being yelled at or kicked out of the house; she wasn't really sure she wanted to go in, anyways. So, she just returned the steady look until Pamela looked to Amelia. The look on her face then was full of fear. For a moment, she looked like she was going to say something, but she didn't. Instead, she turned and vanished back into her house, telling them all to follow as she moved.

She led them into what would have, under normal circumstances and in a normal-person house, would have been a dining room or maybe a fancy sitting room, but in Pamela's house was a séance room. The round table Pamela covered with a tablecloth decorated with runes before instructing her guests to take their seats in the mismatched chairs. Asher dropped into a wooden chair with frayed upholstery and crossed her arms under her breasts and she couldn't seem to reverse the frown that had taken over her lips. Beside her, Amelia huddled in her seat and stared at her knees. Dean and Sam kept casting furtive glances around and Bobby watched Pamela.

"Okay, we're looking for what pulled Dean outta Hell, right?" she asked.

"And to see if we can find anything out 'bout Amelia," Bobby added.

Pamela frowned and looked from the older hunter to Amelia. Again, Asher had the feeling like she was going to say something, but instead she turned to Dean. "I need something to connect me to whatever pulled you out of the pit." Dean obliged and rolled up the sleeve of his t-shirt to expose the raised handprint on his shoulder. At the sight of it, Amelia whimpered and a shudder ran through her body. Pamela's hand hovered over the mark for a moment before she turned back to her audience around the table. "Okay, everyone join hands." When everyone had done so, regardless of how reluctant they were in said action, the psychic nodded once and covered the handprint on Dean's arm with her own.

Asher felt a jolt run through her body like a painless electric shock. She was sure if she could see it, her hair would be standing on end and there would be tiny arcs running between the strands, but she couldn't see. She couldn't even open her eyes. She heard whispers and a high-pitched noise and underneath it all, she could hear Pamela talking, but Asher could only focus on trying to keep her body in one piece; she was afraid she would fall apart if she lost focus for one second, or explode in a bloody mess. The whispers grew louder and louder and then stopped suddenly as Pamela screamed, her voice joined after a moment by the higher wail of Amelia and a guttural yell from Asher; the werewolf hit the floor hard, her head bouncing off the hardwood.

"What the fuck just happened?" Dean exclaimed when he could move again.

"I got your answers for you," Pamela moaned.

Asher pushed herself to a half-sitting position and waited for the stars to clear from her vision. Dean, Sam and Bobby were crouched by Pamela and the air was thick with the smell of blood and burned flesh. Unable to get to her feet and remain steady, Asher crawled across the rug to peer around the table.

Pamela had lost her eyes. They had been burned out of their sockets by the look of it.

She watched a moment longer to make sure the men had the situation under control before she turned to Amelia to make sure her sister was okay. What she met with was a blank stare, Amelia's normally pale eyes gone almost white and her skin ashen. It appeared as if Amelia had been frozen in time while everything else continued.

"Amelia?"

No answer.

"Amelia." Asher shook her sister gently.

Still no answer.

"Amelia!"

"She won't answer," came Pamela's voice from the floor.

"What? Why the fuck not?"

"Because she's some sort of supernatural being herself, just like you, and she's important to Castiel, the angel who pulled Dean out of Hell."

Asher didn't know if she'd ever get to meet Castiel in person, but if she did, she was going to give the angel a piece of her mind, her foot and her gun. She was sick of him coming up in conversation. She was sick of him complicating their lives. Asher growled and looked down at the motionless husk of Amelia. "Can you fix her? Someone has to fix her. She can't stay like this!" Dean tried to place a hand on Asher's shoulder, but she shrugged it off and moved to stand behind Amelia's chair so she could face the others in the room. "Fix her!"

"We will. We've got to talk to this Castiel first. Maybe he can do something to help Amelia."

"Hey guys, sorry to butt in on the conversation here, but can we get me to a hospital?"

* * *

><p>Back at the hotel, Sam set Amelia's body on the couch and draped a blanket around her shoulders and tucked it in tightly so she couldn't get a chill from the window Asher had forced open. It was raining gently again and Asher was taking deep breaths, inhaling the smell and trying to clear her mind. Dean and Bobby were trying to come up with a plan to contact Castiel and, from the sounds of it, were getting nowhere fast.<p>

"How are you doing Ash?" Sam asked.

She shrugged and turned to face the tall man. "It doesn't matter. How was Pamela when you left her?"

"Unconscious, but otherwise fine. The doctor said it shouldn't be a problem to clean the wounds and get her fitted for glass eyes."

"Did they ask how it happened?"

"Not after Pamela said she didn't want to talk about it. I'm sure they'll ask her again once she wakes up."

Asher sighed and settled her shoulders against the window; she felt like she spent a lot of time staring out of windows lately, a melancholy look on her face. "Do you really think it's angels, Bambi? Do you really think this is the Apocalypse?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Gee, thanks."

"You want me to lie?"

Asher returned Sam's small smile. "No. I just want this to be easy."

"When are our lives ever easy?" Dean asked, joining the conversation. He looked from his brother to his friend and lover, his face serious. Behind him, Bobby's face echoed the sentiment. "We've got a plan," he said. "We're going to summon Castiel and find out what he knows and then kill him."

"You think you can kill an _angel_?"

"It's worth a shot, Ash. We've got nothing else."

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

* * *

><p>Okay, so it's been forever since I updated and for that I apologize. I've been focusing more on my original fiction and my courses and I just don't get as much out of writing fanfiction as I used to. I'm going to be finishing up everything, but it'll just be at a slower pace. I apologize for that because I know I have a few people who really like this fic. I will finish though, I promise.<p>

In the meantime, enjoy this chapter. I'm going to be working on this fic right now, so there will be updates until it's done, at least. I'm not promising anything after that, however. I did my best with this chapter, but it's been a long time, so I apologize if it's not up to snuff.

Anyways, enjoy reading this while I enjoy my thunderstorm.

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><p><strong>Next C<strong>**hapter: Castiel. **


	7. Chapter Seven: Castiel

I don't own **Supernatural.** Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

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><p><strong>Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.<br>**Chapter Seven: Castiel.

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><p>Asher didn't even ask where Dean and Bobby had managed to find the empty storage facility. She didn't really care. It was large enough to fit almost anything that could possibly come when Bobby started the summoning ritual, and it was remote enough that they wouldn't draw any unwanted attention from the normal people in the settlements around them. Asher had taken all that in as they'd driven up in her truck, and that was all she cared about. Asher's focus was completely on her shell of a sister. She couldn't take her eyes off Amelia, who hadn't said anything since visiting Pamela and who was sitting on the floor of the bunker, facing the door with her knees pulled up to her chest, pale eyes wide and unblinking as Dean and Bobby coated the inside of the building with every glyph they could possibly think off and that might be useful; Sam had volunteered to stay back at the hotel and do research, hoping to find anything that could help them.<p>

"Hey Ash, we could really use your help."

She turned at Bobby's voice and took the proffered paintbrush to start working on the Devil's Trap she was supposed to be painting on the floor and ceiling right inside the door; the rickety ladder she had to use was a little frightening. The feeling of Amelia's eyes tingled along her spine, even though Asher knew her sister wasn't looking _at _her, but it was uncomfortable, so she made quick work of her task, breaking a rung on the stupid ladder in the process, and then retreated to the back of the bunker, arms crossed under her chest; she was careful not to smudge any of the carefully painted or drawn wards. Dean watched her move, but didn't say anything and for that, she was glad. She just wanted a few moments of silence before they had to confront the angel. Or whatever the hell he was. A few minutes to try and figure out what the fuck she was going to do.

Eventually, Dean and Bobby finished double- and triple-checking all the glyphs, lying out all the weapons they had brought with them—it was enough to scare even a seasoned hunter and a varied enough arsenal to take out just about anything—and took their places for the actual summoning. Bobby had some concern that Amelia's placement and apparent connection to the angels would screw things up, but they decided to proceed without trying to move her. She wasn't exactly cooperative in her trance and no one felt like fighting to move her dead weight.

Asher moved to stand beside Dean, her sawed-off gripped tightly in one hand, the other running along the barrel, a nervous gesture. She wasn't ready for this. Dean had his hand on a similar weapon, but his other one was resting on the small of Asher's back, a bit of comfort in the unsettling situation.

"Ready?" he asked, voice quiet.

She had a sudden urge to lean into him, to kiss him, to do anything that would take her mind off the situation, but she couldn't. Wouldn't. Not with Bobby standing right there and Amelia in her current state and the Apocalypse bearing down on them. Not with a potential angel about to barge in. She wasn't ready. She was not ready. How did someone get ready for something like this? "I'm ready," she finally said. "As I'll ever be." The werewolf managed to flash a toothy smile at Dean before she turned to Bobby. "Let's get this ball rolling or whatever. I want to get out of here."

The older hunted nodded, shared a look with Dean, and then focused on the book propped open to the page with the ritual needed for summoning… well, Asher wasn't sure what the ritual was actually supposed to summon, but Bobby promised that the translation _could_ be angel and it was the only ritual Bobby had found that had a chance of working. As his deep and slightly raspy voice started to echo around the space, Asher felt a stir deep inside, like someone was moving a spoon through the part of her that was a wolf, like they were mixing batter and it was blurring the lines between her human and animal sides. A low growl escaped her mouth and she felt her fingers tense into claws like she was on the cusp of transforming; she knew it was connected to the words Bobby was speaking, just as she'd reacted violently to Pamela's séance, but she didn't know why. She moved away from Dean a little, her wolf protesting loudly inside, invisible claws scraping against her skin. Her wolf was hungry and bothered.

"Ash?" Dean tried to get closer, but she waved him off.

"Keep an eye out for Castiel," she barked. "I'm fine." A bit of vomit worked its way into her mouth, but she swallowed and dropped to her butt on the concrete. The wolf screamed inside and her bones shifted slightly.

Reluctantly, Dean moved back to his original position and paid attention to what was going on, leaving Asher squirming on the floor; she knew his eyes kept flicking back to her semi-foetal position, he was worried about her and she was oddly comforted by it. Bobby stopped speaking a moment later and it felt as if a weight had been lifted from Asher. Everything was still inside her. She dropped onto her back and lay there, waiting, listening for the arrival of their mysterious angel. Her breath came in ragged pants, but the wolf was quiet.

But nothing was happening.

Not only was it still inside Asher, but the bunker was still as well. No one was moving or saying anything. No one was breathing. Everyone was waiting, anticipating the worst. They just kept waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Eventually Bobby moved to the work benches where the weapons were laid out and leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest. Dean hopped up onto the table across from him and laid his shotgun on the table beside him. Asher joined them a moment later, seated beside Dean, her gun on the other side of them; all weapons were ready for easy access. The trio remained silent, Bobby idly scratching his beard, Dean playing with his watch and Asher staring at the floor. Amelia remained in a trance, staring at the door, except now she was rocking slightly, back and forth and emitting some high-pitched hum in a tune no one could place. When the noise reached a volume loud enough for everyone to hear, they all watched her for a moment, contemplating the strange behaviour in continuing silence.

When the silence became too much to bear, Asher asked, "What's up with Sammich?" She wasn't really concerned, just looking for something to say. Sam Winchester was a big boy; he could take care of himself.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"He's just been… not really Sammich since you came back from Hell and we didn't talk to him at all after you disappeared. It was like he had vanished or died. He wouldn't even take Amelia's phone calls and they were sleeping together." She ignored the look of mild surprise from Bobby and continued on. "And now he passes up hunting down an angel? That doesn't seem like something he'd do, even for research. Being the first hunters to go after an angel is like live-action research."

Dean shrugged and Bobby said, "He's probably just adjusting to Dean being back. It can't have been easy to think his brother was dead."

Asher gave the older hunter an indignant look and sighed. She ran one hand back over her hair, straightening her stray black bangs and wiping beads of sweat away. "And, I wasn't going to say anything, but he doesn't smell like Sam anymore. He almost smells… like a demon."

"Like a demon?" Dean snorted and Bobby gave a small chuckle. "Ash, I think your wolf is out of whack or something. Sam doesn't have enough blood from Yellow Eyes to smell like a demon. And you've always been able to smell him before."

Asher tried to find an answer, but was unsuccessful. Luckily, Bobby had a segue prepared.

"Speaking of the wolf," Bobby said, deftly changing subjects. "How's the control coming?"

Asher paused, not really sure if she wanted to talk about this. But her wolf had other ideas. She remained silent, her mind moving inward of its own accord, down to that spot in her core where the wolf resided, like it was called there by the beast. She rose up, a hulking black form, lean and intimidating, a low growl rumbling in her throat and heat radiating from her nostrils. The alliance Asher had forged with her wolf was tenuous and liable to break at any minute. The only reason she hadn't gone mad and torn everyone to bits yet was because she changed frequently, ran and killed animals for the wolf to feast on. She had reached out to the wolf and, with Dean's help, fought for whatever control she had. Without realizing it, Asher placed a hand over her stomach. "All right, I think. Although, when this is over, I'm going to need to go for a very long, long run. Maybe even spend a couple days as a wolf to calm her down. And calm myself down."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to you talking about… your wolf as a separate person."

Asher looked at Dean and then at Bobby, who nodded his agreement before she nodded her own. It wasn't exactly a normal situation, even in their world of supernatural things, angels, demons and crazy people. Everyone they had ever encountered who shared Asher's "werewolfitus" was either dead, driven crazy or stuck in wolf form. No one else had apparently had the stubbornness, energy or whatever exactly it was that had allowed Asher to communicate with her wolf.

"It's too bad she can't talk," Asher said.

"That would be inter—"

And that was when the metal structure started to shake around them, violently and like it was about to fall apart at the seams; if it hadn't been for all the magic floating around the place, it might have done just that. There was a loud crack like a simultaneous shot of lightning and thunder and the bare bulbs hanging above them flickered. Bobby, Dean and Asher jumped away from the tables, weapons in hand, and took up ready positions behind Amelia. The doors flew open, a sharp burst of wind blowing them all a step backwards; Amelia didn't move. The only sign she hadn't turned to stone was her hair and clothes blowing backward.

In the open doorway a man wearing a trench coat and loose tie stood, staring intently at them all, his eyes dark and his face cast into sharp relief by black shadows. Lightning flashed and the silhouette of a pair of massive wings appeared against the wall of the storage facility.

Dean and Bobby started shooting, bullets bouncing around the metal building, holes appearing in the body of the man. There was no blood and no noises of pain, just the _ping ping ping _of bullets snapping against the corrugated walls and the shouting of the hunters. After taking in the sight of an honest-to-God-angel, raised her shotgun and fired, the specially blessed bullets having no effect. She fired until it clicked empty. For a second, she saw the wall behind him through the angel's shoulder before the wound knit itself closed; she could have sword she saw a shot of golden light before it happened.

When the din of bullets stopped, there was a moment of silence and that same stillness from before settled on the bunker. The angel, who could only be Castiel, stood there and stared at them all, the emotionless set of his face sending shivers down Asher's spine; the lack of scent was also unsettling. Everything had a smell. Everyone had a smell. The wolf reared her head again at the strangeness and sniffed deeper. Asher smelled metal, chalk, paint, guns, Dean, Bobby, not-Amelia… everything she expected to, but not the angel.

"CASTIEL!"

The sudden inclusion of Amelia's voice startled everyone. Three heads turned in sync to watch the woman spring to her feet, full of life again, and run across the concrete floor to stand in front of the stoic angel. Asher thought, for a mad second, that her sister was going to through her arms around Castiel, but she just stood there and smiled up at him, a new light in her gray eyes.

"Castiel!" she said again.

He blinked once, slowly, and lowered his head to Amelia's face as if seeing her there for the first time. His mouth twitched, almost a smile. The pair were totally unaware of the wide-eyed gazes coming from the hunters behind them.

"Hello Amelia."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

* * *

><p>Okay, so I don't actually know where that storage facility was. I don't pay THAT close of attention to the background details in the show. Not always, anyway. Whatever. It doesn't matter. The main point was getting Castiel in the picture and thickening the "mysterious" Amelia plot, as well as getting through the ACTUAL plot.<p>

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: Purpose and Pain. <strong>


	8. Chapter Eight: Purpose and Pain

I don't own **Supernatural.** Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

* * *

><p><strong>Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.<br>**Chapter Eight: Purpose and Pain.

* * *

><p>Asher could count the number of times she'd been able to move faster than the human eye could see on one hand and still have fingers left over. So, when she ended up standing in front of the angel across the bunker in the blink of an eye, she was stunned and surprised into silence. The wide-eyed look didn't last long in the wake of the anger that had propelled her there in the first place however, and instead of looking around at her new location, she focused on the target of all that rage. She turned her wolfish blue eyes on Castiel, a growl leaking through her teeth as she moved even closer, her chest nearly pressed against his; she had shoved Amelia out of the way to make her close posture more threatening. Amelia kept trying to wedge herself between Asher and Castiel, but Asher's superior strength kept the woman to one side.<p>

"How the fuck do you know my sister?" Asher demanded, punctuating her sentence with a fist against his chest.

The angel said nothing, just stared down at her.

Amelia stomped away from the pair, moving to stand behind Castiel, like she was backing him up.

Asher growled. "How do you know Amelia? What the fuck is going on with her? Why did you pull Dean from the Pit?"

Castiel's blue eyes narrowed, his brows coming together to create a deep furrow in the middle of his forehead. "I do not have to answer your questions, wolf." His voice was low, quiet and dangerous.

She took two long strides back, raising her shotgun as she did so; the growls coming from her mouth were louder, more feral. Her finger had compressed the trigger a fraction when Amelia leapt in front of Castiel, arms spread wide to either side. Asher growled again, loudly and almost a bark, and put the slug through the centre of the angel's forehead. A hole opened as the shot echoed off the metal walls, and for a minute, it looked like maybe she'd been able to do some damage; Castiel closed his eyes and rocked back a bit. When his eyes opened, however, the wound knitted back together as if his flesh was made of clay. Amelia advanced on her sister and shoved her backwards, her smaller frame managing to move her stunned sibling back a few steps. Asher knocked Amelia's arms away, but the younger woman kept coming.

"Leave him alone Asher!" she shrieked.

"HE HAS TO TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON!" the werewolf roared back, throwing an arm across Amelia's chest.

For the first time in the years together, Amelia tackled Asher when she wasn't on the cusp of transformation. This was an all-out attack, accompanied by a shriek and punches.

"YOU'LL HURT HIM!"

Asher rolled her head back and glared at Dean, who took the hint and moved to grab Amelia off of her sister. Bobby also started to move forward, but the next thing any of them could tell, they were all lying, sprawled at the back of the bunker with Amelia crouched behind the angel's trench coat. She was shaking and her pale eyes were wide. She was scared. That more than anything propelled Asher to her feet. She ran across the bunker, hunched over like she would drop to all fours at any moment, and attempted to tackle Castiel as Amelia had tackled her.

She ran into an invisible wall and was sent flying back across the bunker.

"Ash!" Dean ran to her side when she didn't get up immediately, one arm going around her shoulders and the other remained on his gun. "Ash, are you okay?"

"No," she whispered. Her blue eyes went dark then, when Dean expected them to go that pale white-blue they did when she was about to transform. "No, I'm not." She pushed herself out of Dean's arm and got to her feet again, eyes on the angel.

"Are you done, wolf?" the angel asked in that calm, scary voice.

Asher didn't answer.

She took a few steps back to the workbench where she could sit before she heard a snap and the floor rushed up to meet her.

* * *

><p>When Asher awoke, she was lying face-down on the concrete floor, her cheek pressed again the still-damp paint of one of the wards on the floor. She could see Bobby lying on his back a few feet away, one hand still wrapped around the hilt of the long machete he'd brought to attempt to decapitate the angel; that probably wouldn't have worked anyway. After a moment, Asher was able to get her hands underneath her body—her incredibly stiff and sore body—and she pushed herself up onto her knees.<p>

Bobby got himself into a sitting position beside her. "You okay Ash?"

"Aside from feeling like I just went fifteen rounds with a sledgehammer, I'm just peachy. How 'bout you old man?"

He gave her one of his sarcastic smirks and scratched his beard. "Fine."

She walked over and helped Bobby to his feet. The two of them stood there for a moment and turned to observe the rest of the damage Castiel had caused… on what appeared to have been his way out. There was no sign that the angel had been there except for the dents in the corrugated metal from the barrage of bullets the hunters had fired off. Amelia was once again seated with her knees pulled up to her chest; she was sitting almost directly over the spot where Castiel had been standing. Dean was standing not far behind her, half-turned to where Bobby and Asher had been lying.

"What the hell happened?" Asher asked.

Dean shook his head, as if to say "I'll tell you later," and then nodded towards Amelia.

Grudgingly, Asher went to her sister. She hated herself for it, but it was the last thing she wanted to do at that moment. Nothing was the way it should have been; the way she had expected it to be, but she couldn't let that stop her from being a good sister or friend. Could she? Asher sighed and dropped down to her knees beside Amelia, but farther away than she probably should have been.

"Amelia?" she whispered.

"He left. Why'd he leave?"

"I…"

"It hurt when he left, Asher. Why did it hurt? Castiel wasn't supposed to leave. He was supposed to stay with me."

"Uh…" Man, she was so unqualified for this. "What hurt?"

"My chest." Amelia's voice raised a couple octaves and filled with tears; she hadn't sounded like that since she was little. "It felt like something was being pulled out of my chest as he left. It hurt so bad." The tears started falling and Asher realized that there were already tears on Amelia's cheeks. Whatever her connection to the angel was, it was seriously messing Amelia up. As Asher watched, Amelia seemed to gather herself together some. She shook her head slightly and looked at Asher like she was seeing her for the first time in a long time. Maybe she was. "Ash…?"

"Amelia?"

"What happened? Where are we?"

Asher blinked. "You… don't remember anything?"

"Uhm… no." She uncurled herself and stretched. "Why does my chest hurt?"

"You… you said it had something to do with that angel leaving. It felt like something had been ripped from your chest?" Asher slowly shuffled back a bit. The rapid change in Amelia's personality was offsetting.

"I… I don't know. Can you help me stand?"

Asher reached down and wrapped her hands around Amelia's wrists, well aware that Bobby and Dean were watching closely. On her feet, Amelia leaned a little into her sister, but Asher reflexively moved back; Amelia still didn't smell like she should have, like she always had. It still was not her sister standing there before her. At least, not totally.

Sensing an incoming freak out, Dean moved in and stepped in between Asher and Amelia.

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><p>Castiel looked down on the bunker, a deep frown on his face. He had tried to get through to Amelia, but the damage done by her grace being removed was deeper than he had expected it to be. It was like there were two people living inside Amelia's head; whatever remained of the angel she had been and the person who had been created when her immortality and powers had been removed. She had been shaped into something Castiel never would have expected by that werewolf and she was deeply connected to the Winchesters.<p>

That would either turn out to be very good or very bad.

"You can't get her back, Castiel. She's no longer an angel. She can't be part of your garrison again."

Castiel turned his blue eyes to Uriel and nodded once, curtly. "I know that, Uriel, but there's something wrong with her. Part of her former self survived and it's fighting to get out. She's either going to remember what she is, or destroy herself in trying." There was always the danger that her companions would figure it out before she did, but Castiel was more concerned about what was going to happen to Amelia. She had been… his friend. As much as angels could have friends.

"That is not our concern, Castiel. Our only concern are the Winchester boys."

"I know that."

Uriel disappeared, leaving Castiel alone to stare into the past.

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

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><p>Okay, so I've decided to start whoring for reviews.<p>

REVIEW PLEASE!

I really would like to know what people think about this fic and there are more people who read this fic than who review, so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

Thank you.

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: Amelia the Angel? <strong>


	9. Chapter Nine: Amelia the Angel?

I don't own **Supernatural.** Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

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><p><strong>Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.<br>**Chapter Nine: Amelia the Angel?

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><p>He couldn't believe what he was seeing.<p>

Not the sitting silently starting at each other, not even the slight downturn to Asher's lips or the wide eyes that told him Amelia was freaked out. That was all at least somewhat normal; something he had seen before. What he couldn't believe was the animosity radiating from Asher and directed at Amelia. What he couldn't believe was that the only other pair of siblings he had met who were as close as he and Sam were falling apart because of a change in one of them. An uncontrollable change. What he couldn't believe was that Asher, who had been bitten and transformed into a werewolf years ago was about to abandon her sister who had stuck by her through all the pain and suffering.

He wanted to hit Asher, to yell and scream and shake her and tell her what an idiot she was being. The only thing that kept him from doing that was he knew Asher wanted to do the same thing to herself. He could tell she felt guilty for feeling the way she did.

So, he contented himself with leaning up against the window sill, cold beer in one hand and lukewarm slice of pizza in the other, watching and waiting to see if anything more would erupt out of this conversation, or lack thereof, as it were. Sam was seated at the Formica excuse for a dining table, picking at his own slice of pizza and drinking far more than he normally did, but Dean chalked that up to the stressful situation they were all currently in. His younger brother had been acting a little weird since they had reunited at the motel, like he'd had sixteen cups of super-caffeinated coffee or something, but now was not the time to question him about that. Dean's energy had been sapped by the encounter with Castiel and they still had to deal with Amelia.

Asher's words came back to him: why couldn't this just be easy?

Dean would never tell anyone this, but at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to have a normal life where when you died, you stayed dead and your sister didn't spontaneously show signs of being connected to angels.

A few moments later, when the pizza was stone cold and there was only one bottle of beer gone, Asher pushed herself to her feet and made a beeline for Dean, the look in her dark blue eyes betraying how lost she felt. Taking the silent cue, Dean grabbed the hard liquor from his duffel bag and the pair once again made their way to the roof of the motel, leaving Amelia and Sam to whatever it was they wanted to do. Probably talk about their feelings. Or something.

Who was Dean kidding? He knew that was what awaited him on the roof.

Asher perched perilously on the railing, the top of which was wide enough for her to sit cross-legged. Someone had left an old lawn chair up there at some point and Dean chose that to sit on after making sure it would hold his weight. He positioned it so he could face Asher and put his feet up on the stone railing. He unscrewed the cap on the bottle of scotch and took a long drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol chase away the early autumn chill in the air, and then passed the bottle to Asher who proceeded to chug down a good few shots' worth.

"Easy there," Dean cautioned half-heartedly. Asher's werewolf metabolism could handle a lot more booze than his, even though he was well-experienced in the area of inebriating beverages.

She gave him a bit of a grin, showing too much teeth for it to really be a happy gesture. "Fuck you," she snapped before giving him the bottle.

"Are you and Amelia going to be okay?" he asked tentatively.

Asher shrugged. "I was sure we would be, especially when she started acting more like herself after Castiel left, but... Dean, I don't know if we will. This isn't the kind of change you get over." She sighed and eagerly took a swig when Dean once again gave her the bottle. "When I became a werewolf, I didn't really change that much personality-wise. Amelia's changed. Like really, really changed and I don't know what to do. Or if I can handle it." She looked at him, the full weight of her guilt visible in her face. "I hate myself for this Dean. I shouldn't be thinking these things, but she's not my Amelia anymore, as much as she insists she is."

Dean frowned. "She says she hasn't changed?"

"No, not that. She just says that everything I know about her is true, that she's still the Amelia I know, who I took in as my little sister. She's still that weird little girl I found wandering around the woods."

"And you don't believe her?"

"I don't know. How can I? She had this whole other part of her hiding away. Granted, she didn't know it was there, but…" The sigh Asher gave that time was harsh, loud and frustrated. She dropped her head into his hands and Dean could see the skin on her fingers mottling as she tensed. When she looked up again, her eyes were shimmering like she was about to cry. The tears didn't fall though. "I don't know if I can handle this, but I have to! I can't leave! I can't give her to someone else! She stuck with me through the worst part of me being a werewolf. She kept me from going crazy and killing anyone. And… and I still love her, but Dean, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Dean stood up and wrapped his arms around the werewolf, aware that he could feel the heat of her body even through her long-sleeved shirt. She always ran several degrees hotter than the average human. It was something Dean liked about her, actually. "I don't know, Ash, I really don't."

She returned the hug and slid off the railing so she could press her face into Dean's neck, nuzzling him like a dog would have. After a few seconds, she pulled back enough to look up at him. "I don't want to leave tomorrow morning."

He dropped his arms so they were around her waist and he could pull her closer. "Then don't."

"We've got to," she sighed. "We're on the search for answers. And I'm hoping something that will make Amelia act like herself again." She put her forehead on Dean's shoulder. "Am I a terrible person for thinking these things?"

"Maybe a little bit."

"Thanks."

"Hey, you asked."

"I know, I know." She looked up at him again and the shimmering in her eyes was gone, replaced by the normal spark. "Are you and Sam going to be okay?"

Dean knew she was referring to the row he and Sam had had once they'd all met back at the motel. As was often the case, Dean couldn't really remember what was said, but he knew it had something to do with Hell and hunting for Castiel. He tended to block those fights out. No one likes to remember fights with the siblings. Not really. "We always are, aren't we? This is common ground for us Winchesters. Not so for you guys."

She shrugged again. "I just thought I'd ask since it was kind of my fault you realized something was off."

Ah yes, the demon smell. Dean's thoughts never rested too long on that uncomfortable thought. Why would Sam smell like a demon? What could possibly cause that bizarre side-effect? If it wasn't for Asher's nose, he may have never noticed the slight differences to his brother's behaviour. As it was, he had nowhere to start questioning Sam, so Dean was doing his best to keep the thoughts at the back of his mind until he had some evidence that he could sense. So, he held Asher closer and pressed his face into the hair by her ear, breathing in the smell of her and once again wishing things were easy.

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><p>"What do you think I am Sam?" Amelia asked, rolling onto her side so she could look at the taller Winchester. They were lying on one of the beds in the room, staring at the ceiling. They had been talking about the most random, mundane things they could think of to try and take their minds off everything that had happened, but that thread of conversation had drifted into nothing, so now Amelia was going for the more serious questions. "Sam?"<p>

He shook his head. "Sorry, kinda zoned out there." The younger Winchester shifted on the bed so he was half-reclined against the pillows and the headboard. "Amelia, why do you think you're anything other than human? Or maybe a vessel for the angels?"

"Because of the way I felt when Castiel was in that bunker with us. I don't think I would be… connected to him if I was just a vessel. I don't think I would have felt so lost when he left. I know him. I know I know him. And I don't mean that I know he's Castiel and an angel and whatever the hell. I mean I know him like I spent time with him. Like we were… friends." Amelia turned her head and took in the look Sam was giving her. "What? That's just what I felt. I know how crazy it sounds." Sam smiled at her, one of his big, warm grins. She returned the expression but it faded after a moment, weighted down by all that she was feeling and going through. "How am I supposed to go through life like this? Wondering what I really am?"

"You and Ash are going to look for answers, right? Maybe you'll find out and then you won't have to wonder."

Amelia snorted. "Yeah. From where? The Angel Encyclopaedia? Doubt it." She moved her pale gray eyes to the ceiling and tried to picture Castiel's face again, or the face of his vessel anyway. It wasn't hard to recall the details. Something in that face was very familiar, which was impossible since she'd never met the man Castiel was riding around in, but the fact remained. She could see Castiel the angel in that fact, all the beauty and power that was his true form as an angel. As she thought about it, as she picture the angel, Amelia's heart chest constricted and she was suddenly overcome with the urge to cry. "What if," she gasped. But she didn't continue.

"What if what?" Sam prodded when it became apparent she wasn't going to continue on her own.

She shook her head. It was a ridiculous thought. Too ridiculous. There was no way that was possible… But who was she to say something was impossible? Hadn't Dean just come back from Hell? Weren't they chasing an angel? Wasn't the Apocalypse bearing down on them? Amelia swallowed and looked up at Sam. "What if I'm one of them?" she suggested sheepishly. "I know it sounds stupid, but—"

"It's possible."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah. Maybe unlikely," he added with a grin. "You're not a very angelic person."

She playfully swatted Sam's shoulder and tried to contain the laugh pushing at her lips, but she couldn't. It burst forth and she let herself laugh loudly and thoroughly. It felt good to laugh, even though it wasn't that funny. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, I guess."

They dissolved into silence again and Amelia went back to staring at the ceiling and thinking about the trench coat wearing angel and how it had felt when he left. She wanted to see him again, to ask him all the questions that were bouncing around in her head. Could she be an angel? If she was, why didn't she remember anything about being an angel? Why didn't she have wings? How had she become a mortal of whatever she was now? So many questions and only one source for an answer. She sighed and settled farther into the slightly uncomfortable mattress beside Sam, leaning against him slightly as she did so.

_Castiel, where are you?_

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

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><p>So nothing really happens in this chapter and there's only one more in the book. Hmm…<p>

Ah, I've got stuff planned out, don't worry. Also, this book continues directly in the next one-shot, so you'll have to read that to.

Anyways, review please! Let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, what you want to see more of, less of… you get the picture. Reviews make me want to write more!

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: Parting.<strong>


	10. Chapter Ten: Parting

I don't own **Supernatural.** Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

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><p><strong>Monster Hospital, Book Four: Angels.<br>**Chapter Ten: Parting.

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><p>The rising sun found the quartet of hunters exactly where it had left them the night before: sitting in silence in a dingy motel room in a tiny little town in Nowhere, U.S.A. Asher was up with the sunrise, as was Amelia, although no one could say for sure or not if she had slept at all. Sam seemed to think she hadn't. Dean didn't seem to care. Asher left the motel room to get a breakfast that wasn't beer and wasn't located in said motel room. Amelia watched everything with a stoic face from her perch on the bed. Her things were neatly packed and she was waiting, still as stone for her sister's return.<p>

Because the part of Amelia that was the hunter, the physical, rational and mortal part of Amelia, was furious.

When the werewolf entered the room, Dean and Sam made themselves scarce, sensing the turbulence on the horizon; they did manage to grab their coffees on the way out the door. Asher, after placing the hot beverages and her breakfast sandwich safely on the table, turned to Amelia, hands on her hips. She was ready for what was coming.

"How could you do this to me?" Amelia asked, voice dangerous and low.

"What are you talking about?"

Amelia wanted to smack Asher, but she knew that wouldn't get them anywhere; if she hadn't been concentrating so hard on not going batshit crazy again, she might have done it anyway. "I'm talking about your supreme lack of support while I was… lost, for lack of a better word."

"What the fuck was I supposed to do?"

For the first time she could remember, Amelia gnashed her teeth together and balled her hands into fists. Her whole body tensed with the effort of keeping herself rooted to one spot and not leaping across the room to pummel Asher with her tiny and likely ineffectual fists. Unfortunately, she wasn't so lucky with keeping her voice restrained. "YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED WITH ME!" she roared. "YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT LEAVING! ABOUT HOW MUCH YOU HATED ME! ABOUT HOW MUCH I ABANDONED YOU!" Something started to build in Amelia as she yelled, something hot and painful. "YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN A SISTER TO ME LIKE I WAS AFTER YOU WERE TURNED! YOU ARE A SELFISH BITCH!" As the last word left her mouth, the window panes rattled in their frames.

Neither woman paid them any mind.

"I didn't know how to handle this, Amelia! This wasn't—isn't—like turning into a werewolf! We knew how to handle werewolves! It wasn't some new phenomenon. This was!" Asher's voice was shaking like she'd cry.

Amelia didn't know how to process _that _information. Normally, the roles were reversed and Asher was the one having trouble controlling herself and Amelia was the one on the verge of tears. She shook her head and rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, trying to clear the anger out just a tiny bit, just so she could have a discussion and not an argument, as much as she wanted one. "Asher… It shouldn't matter! You should have been worried, not scared. You should have done what I did!"

The werewolf's eyes darkened. "Are you telling me you weren't scared when I got bit? That you were perfectly okay with the idea of me turning into a raging wolf at the full moon?"

"Of course I was a little scared—"

"THEN YOU CAN'T GET MAD AT ME FOR BEING SCARED!" Asher was across the room in the blink of an eye, her hand hovering in front of Amelia's throat, shaking. For an impossibly long moment, the girls stared each other down before Asher finally dropped the offending appendage and turned her back on her sister. "You can't not blame for not knowing what to do, Amelia. I'm sorry if you feel betrayed or whatever and that you think I'm a selfish bitch, but I can't handle the thought you may actually be something I know nothing about, that you may have thousands of years of life already under your belt, that… that—" Asher swallowed audibly, but still didn't turn back to face Amelia.

Something inside Amelia snapped. "THAT I'M NOT HUMAN? NEITHER ARE YOU! HAVE I EVER HELD THAT AGAINST YOU?"

Her voice shook the window panes again and this time, it brought the boys running. Amelia watched through her anger as Dean took Asher to one side of the room. When she realized Sam was trying to do the same with her, she relaxed a fraction and let herself be moved, although she was suddenly overcome with a desire to hit Sam over and over again.

"Amelia."

The calm tone brought her back more than anything else.

"Amelia, chill out before you bring the building down around us." He was trying to joke, but he wasn't sure if that was possible or not so the jovial attitude failed.

"I wish she'd never been bitten," she snapped.

"What? Why?"

The blonde shook her head, unsure of what had made her say that. Years of resentment? Of feeling inferior to her sister's supernatural strength. She looked up at Sam, her gray eyes wide. "Does Dean ever resent your psychic… whatever?"

Something flickered across Sam's face, like he wanted to say something but couldn't or didn't want to, but Amelia didn't press. It wasn't her business until she was read in and she had her own issues besides. Clearly.

"I don't have my psychic powers anymore, remember?"

"Oh. Right. Well, _did _he ever resent you for having them?"

"I think he was scared of what I was becoming. Or what I might become. He acted a lot like Asher, actually."

Amelia snorted. "I'm not surprised. They're both hot-headed and stubborn and selfish and—"

"Amelia, you don't mean that."

"I do mean that."

Sam cocked an eyebrow at her, but didn't repeat himself. He ran his fingers back through his mop of hair—which, Amelia decided, needed a haircut again—and then gave her a small smile. "She's probably just worried that she can't protect you anymore. Her and Dean are alike in that way, as well." That look crossed Sam's features again, but nothing came of it. "Amelia, I'm going to ask you a question that I want you to answer seriously. And don't hate me for asking it."

"Okay…" Talking to Sam was making her feel better. She thought she could deal with a difficult question.

"Do you wish Asher had never been bitten because you don't like the fact that she's not human?"

That hot and painful something was back in her gut, but Amelia pushed it down. She didn't want to yell at Sam and she really didn't want the glass to rattle in the panes again. So she chewed her lip and mulled it over. "It's useful to have a werewolf on hunts, but everything else is just a pain," she eventually answered. The truth was hard to voice; it felt like it was hooked in her throat and there was real effort involved in pulling it out with damaging her flesh too much. "She's so emotional and irrational all the time. Not to mention she always gets herself torn to shit without any regard about how I might feel. I hate stitching her up. I hate seeing her like that." Amelia had kept her voice as low as she could manage—Asher would hear, otherwise. "I hate that she has all this other stuff going on inside that I can't help with. And now… and now that might be me."

Sam placed one of his giant hands on her shoulder and smiled at her. "Why don't you tell her these things?"

"Because she'd bite my head off."

"True, but it would get this stuff out in the open. It's obviously been eating at you for a long time."

Amelia nodded absently. "Maybe while we're driving… No, that's probably not a good idea."

"Yeah, I'd wait until the truck was firmly in park before broaching the subject. Just in case."

She hugged Sam, pressing her face into his chest and squeezing her eyes shut, drawing every ounce of comfort she could from the gesture.

Across the room, Asher was hugging Dean in a similar fashion and wishing that they didn't have to part ways and that she could hold onto him forever. She was also praying, something she hadn't done in a very long time, for the strength to get her and Amelia through whatever was coming next.

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

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><p>I had some trouble starting this chapter. I'm not sure why. But now that it's done, I'm going to be working on finishing my other two fics that are incomplete before I move on to the next part of Monster Hospital. Shouldn't take that long, hopefully. The one-shots might make it out earlier.<p>

I take a perverse enjoyment in Sam and Amelia's relationship. He's almost a demon and she's an angel. That makes me laugh.

Thanks for reading and let me know what you thought in a review!

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Next Story: Distorted Angel. <strong>A one-shot covering the aftermath of Book 4. Amelia and Asher need to have some serious conversations and both of them are reluctant. When they finally get down to it, Asher's wolf gets in the way. Followed by an angel with no concept of personal space or giving warning. It's a story full of anger, yelling and everybody's favourite angel.

**After that… **it's another one-shot! **Falling Away with You** tells the story of how Dean tries to find comfort when he's minus one Sam. Who does he go to? Asher, of course.

**And after that… **the **Next Book: Future. **Which takes place in 2014. I'm super excited to write this one because the Future!Dean and Future!Cass characters are awesome.  
><strong>First chapter: 2014. <strong>


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